


i'll make you happy (just wait and see)

by newamsterdam



Series: brunch friends [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cohabitation, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Together, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Romance, Roommates, Video Game Designers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10919244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newamsterdam/pseuds/newamsterdam
Summary: “I’m not repressed,” Kuroo hisses. “I’m definitely one hundred percent aware of the fact that I’m in love with Kenma, okay? I’m just not ready to tell him. See? No repression. Perfectly self-aware. Thank you very much.”Kuroo is perfectly aware that there's no good reason for him not to confess his feelings to Kenma. But that doesn't mean he's ready to make his move just yet.A standalone fic in the "brunch friends" universe.





	i'll make you happy (just wait and see)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shions_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/gifts).



> written for the amazing and incomparable sy on the occasion of her birth. thank you for being such a wonderful friend and inspiring writer, sy! having you in my life has brought me so much joy, and i can only hope to repay you with some small joys in the form of kuroken. please accept this humble offering.
> 
> for readers, this fic stands alone, but makes references to other works in this series. timeline wise, it's set before both "here comes your man" and "you'll never wait so long." basically all you need to know is that kuroo is a psychiatrist, kenma works as a video game designer, and most other characters are floating around in various professions.

Kuroo trips over his own feet as he heads into the building, managing to right himself at the last moment as he feels every pair of eyes in the lobby land on him. It’s not as if he’s trying to make an ass of himself, but when you’re over six feet of person stuffed into a crumpled suit and running as if your life depends on it, grace and subtlety aren’t the first things on your mind. Shaking off the stares, he shifts gaits to a power walk as he glances around and tries to find the right ballroom. 

If this had been any other event, Kuroo would have called it a wash after an emergency appointment had him leaving work two hours late. There had been no time to go back to his apartment and change, so he’s left in the same blazer and crumpled red tie he’d put on at seven-thirty this morning. He hasn’t bothered to look at the mess his hair must be— that’s always a lost cause, anyway. He can only hope that Kenma had been right when he insisted that most people would dress casually to this event, despite the grandeur of the invite. 

When he spots the correct sign, he smooths down his jacket and runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and willing his heartbeat back to a respectable, relaxed tempo. It doesn’t quite work, however, because every time he thinks about what he intends to do tonight, his heart jumps back into his throat. 

He had wanted to be prepared for this. He was going to wear a pressed suit, and a bowtie, and gel his hair into something resembling a neat style. He was going to wear cologne, and enter on time with confidence. He was going to steal every heart in the room, and one in particular. 

But Akari-kun had called at five-fifteen, asking to see him as soon as possible. She’s only been his patient for three months, but he’s kept a close eye on her all the while. It’s entrance exam season, and he doesn’t like to consider how badly the stress of it all could affect her. And today’s emergency had been legitimate— she needed him, and so he’d made the time for her. But as a result, all his grand plans for tonight are now washed up. 

He demands himself to stop thinking like that. Sure, he looks like a mess and he’s probably missed appetizers and he’s sweating from having run from the train station, but— that doesn’t mean tonight can’t end the way he planned. 

He plasters on his best nonchalant grin, then lifts his head and walks into ballroom. It’s not as big as he expected— there are large screens set up in each corner, and novelty figures as the centerpieces on the banquet tables. A stage is set up on front of the room, and over it hangs a black banner with silver text— _A Legend Begins_ , and then a date that’s about a year away.

Kuroo grins to himself even as he looks up at the banner. Kenma’s given the better part of the last four years to this game, and now it’s finally close to seeing the light of day. Even though he doesn’t admit to excitement, Kuroo’s sensed how jittery he’s been the past few weeks. He’s happy to finally see this project through, Kuroo knows. 

Kuroo glances around the room, taking in the different groups of people— many of them typical artsy nerds in blackwash jeans and graphic t-shirts, with glasses and messy hair. Others are more dressed up, some in dresses and suits. Kuroo doesn’t look too out of place, he realizes with a sigh of relief. He’s not standing out any more than he normally does, towering over most people in the room. 

A waiter passes by and offers him a flute of champagne, which Kuroo takes with a smile and a thank you. Clutching the drink in one hand, he scans the room for a familiar head of two-toned hair. 

He finally spots Kenma across the room, talking to a short man with a round face and dark hair. Kenma’s actually doing most of the talking, Kuroo realizes with surprise when he’s a few feet away. His mouth moves slowly, his voice clearly kept low, but he’s gesturing with one hand and his companion is nodding along. 

“You know, Kenma-san, it wouldn’t have been so bad,” the man says when Kuroo is close enough to hear. “There’s no need to be embarrassed.” 

Kuroo frowns, at that. Kenma is self-conscious to a fault, but it’s attention in general more than specific things that embarrass him. Kuroo wonders what they’re talking about.

“It’s a good thing he was late,” Kenma says with a sigh. 

Kuroo freezes for a moment, wondering if there’s something else Kenma could be referring to. But then Kenma turns slightly and catches sight of Kuroo, lifting one brow questioningly and raising a hand to gesture him over.

“When did you get here?” Kenma asks. 

Kuroo swallows back his champagne and settles his arm over Kenma’s shoulders. “Just a second ago. Work ran long— sorry I’m late.” 

Kenma shrugs beneath him, leaning against Kuroo’s side. “Whatever. You didn’t miss much.” 

Kuroo glances at Kenma’s friend, who looks up at him with sparkling, dark eyes. He looks almost like a kid with how wide and eagerly he smiles in the next moment.

“You must be Kuroo-san,” he says excitedly. “I’m Shibayama Yuuki, I work with Kenma-san. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s a pleasure.” 

Kuroo blinks. He can’t imagine Kenma sitting in his office and willingly sharing information about his personal life with his coworkers. But then, maybe he’s not giving Kenma enough credit. 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Kuroo says, grinning. “Thank you for looking after Kenma for me.”

Kenma shoots Kuroo a glare, nudging him lightly in the side. “I don’t need looking after.”

Kuroo looks down at him pointedly. “Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You definitely do.”

“I don’t.” 

Shibayama’s eyes go back and forth between the two of them, like a spectator at a volleyball match. Then he covers his mouth with one hand to hide his laughter. 

“Sorry,” he says, swallowing down a chuckle. “It’s just, I can see what you mean, Kenma-san! You two really are childhood friends, aren’t you?” 

Kuroo nods, although something about the label sits uncomfortably on his shoulders. He and Kenma have known each other for the better part of two decades, now. They’d gone through middle and high school more or less together, and then moved in together after attending separate colleges. Kuroo can’t remember the last time he went more than a few days without talking to Kenma, or more than a week without seeing him. And even then, those times when Kenma is away on business or Kuroo is pulling overnights at the hospital are rare. “Childhood friends” is a reduction of their relationship, at best. 

Kenma shrugs again. “He’s stuck around since then.” 

Shibayama smiles again, something knowing in his smile that Kuroo can’t decipher. “You missed the presentation of the trailer, Kuroo-san. Has Kenma-san shown you the designs for the game, yet?” 

Kuroo shakes his head. “Kenma’s always pretty mum about his babies,” he says. “If I try to go into his office while he’s working, he yells at me.” 

“I don’t yell at you.”

“No, but your quiet scolding is probably worse.” 

“You make it hard to concentrate.” 

“I’m your roommate. You’re supposed to give me love and attention.”

“You’re thinking of a dog.”

“Kenma! Let’s get a dog!” 

Shibayama’s laughing, again, and Kuroo suddenly feels like he’s the one on stage, performing in some play he doesn’t have the script for. Again, this isn’t how he expected tonight to go.

He’s never been to Kenma’s office, before, or met any of his coworkers. Kenma slices his life like a pie, keeping the pieces separate. When he’s at their apartment, he’s either in work mode while in his office, or at home mode when he curls up on the couch. He has friends from school and college who he still sees socially, and then work colleagues. The two never mix. Not even Kuroo, who’s Kenma’s oldest friend and fancies himself Kenma’s closest person in general, transcends those boundaries. 

Shibayama’s still looking at Kuroo like he’s trying to decipher something. “You should play the game when it comes out then, Kuroo-san,” he says decisively. “I think you’d enjoy Kenma-san’s character designs.” 

Kenma frowns at Shibayama. 

The rest of the night passes much like that— Kuroo gets introduced to Kenma’s various coworkers, and they all look at him like they’re trying not to laugh. Some are more successful than others— Tendou Satori, the director of the game, takes one look at Kuroo and throws his head back and laughs. Kuroo tries not to take any of this too personally, tries to chalk it all up to the eccentricities of a group of people who spend ninety-eight percent of their time behind screens, constructing new worlds. 

It’s no big deal, Kuroo tells himself. He’s not in on whatever the joke is, but maybe that’s okay. He’s always happy to see Kenma carving out his own spaces for himself, and becoming comfortable with new groups of people. Maybe it’s okay, then, that there are parts of Kenma’s life than Kuroo doesn’t have access to. 

Still, it no longer seems like the right time to pause on the way home, standing under the moonlight, and tell Kenma that he loves him.

—

He’s balancing two drinks in his hand— one a caramel macchiato, the other an Earl Grey tea— as he glances around the cafe for Kenma. He’d left Kuroo at the counter to go secure them a table, but now Kuroo’s having trouble spotting him. Then, his eyes settle on a small crowd of young men all gathered around one table.

They must be college kids, Kuroo thinks as he approaches. They have Kenma cornered, and he has a look on his face that says he’s about five seconds from demanding that they all get lost. His nose is wrinkled, his eyes squinting as the boys barrage him with questions about his game.

Ah, Kuroo thinks. They must’ve recognized him from some press from the last game release, or something. Nekoma isn’t the biggest game development company in Japan, but it’s gaining notoriety with every release. And Kenma, as the company’s head character designer, is probably well known amongst people who care about the industry. 

Still, Kenma looks like he’s about to burst and this is supposed to be his time with Kuroo, not these new fans. So Kuroo lets his face fall into an expression of cold indifference, hair half in his eyes as he brushes past the boys and sets the drinks in front of Kenma with an audible thunk. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, words rolling off his tongue casually. “Were you waiting long?” 

Kenma looks up at him, his expression shifting from disgust to something wide-eyed and incredulous. His cheeks are dusted pink. “Kuro—”

“Oh, sorry,” Kuroo says, glancing around at the nervous-looking crowd of young men. “I didn’t realize you had company. But you were done talking now, right?” 

The boys glance between themselves, then all nod vigorously.

“Of course!”

“We were just leaving!”

“Nice to meet you, Kozume-san!” 

They scatter like leaves in the wind a second later, so quickly that Kuroo can’t help but laugh. It’s a loud, ungraceful sound, and a couple women a few tables over turn to give Kuroo a pointed look in response. 

Kenma pulls his tea towards him as Kuroo sits down, giving him a glance out of the side of his eyes. “You can be such an asshole,” he says, voice inflectionless. 

“Are you joking?” Kuroo asks, stretching his legs out beneath the table until his feet come to rest under Kenma’s chair. “That was me being _nice_.” 

Kenma shakes his head. “Really.”

“Of course,” Kuroo says, slurping up the foam from his drink. “You were about to go nuclear on them, weren’t you? I was just saving them.”

“By making them think they’d interrupted a date.”

Kuroo sniffs. “They can interpret it however they want.” 

“You called me _babe_.” Kenma says the word as though it’s personally insulted him.

Kuroo shrugs, and tells himself he isn’t blushing. “I call a lot of people that.” 

“Only when you’re making fun of them,” Kenma reminds him. 

Which, alright. That’s probably fair. Kuroo’s never really been one for pet names, and the only nickname that’s ever stuck is Kenma’s shortening of his surname. Most of the time, when he’s shortening someone’s name or calling them by an endearment, it’s to get a rise out of them. 

He licks his lips, frowning down at his drink. “I wasn’t making fun of you,” he insists. 

“I know,” Kenma says. “That’s what made it weird.”

Kuroo chuckles. “You’re not going to tell me I was super cool?”

“You’ve never been cool in your life,” Kenma tells him.

Kuroo shakes his head, laughing in earnest now. “This is why I need you around. You keep me humble.”

Kenma reaches over the table to poke Kuroo in the side. “It might’ve been cool if it was anyone other than you.”

Coming from Kenma, that’s almost a direct compliment. Kuroo laughs again, though his cheeks are still warm. “Hey, you’re getting pretty cool, yourself. I’m almost jealous.” 

Kenma kicks him under the table. “Stop making fun of me.”

—

“So?” Yaku demands, as he and Kuroo sit across a table from each other in the hospital’s break room/cafeteria. “Then what happened?”

“Um, nothing?” Kuroo says. “I mean, Kenma was there to work, and I had psych journals to catch up on reading. We stayed for a few hours, then went home and fell asleep watching a movie.”

“You are so stupid,” Yaku tells him flatly. He balances his elbows against the table, hands running through his reddish-brown hair. “You are actually the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”

Kuroo frowns severely, glancing down at Yaku through narrowed eyes. “You wound me, Yakkun.”

“You know what wounds _me_?” Yaku asks, leveling Kuroo with a stare. “Having to hear about your pining every day, when you’re never going to actually do anything about it. Seriously, how do you untangle other people’s emotions for a living while your own are so repressed?”

“I’m not repressed,” Kuroo hisses. “I’m definitely one hundred percent aware of the fact that I’m in love with Kenma, okay? I’m just not ready to tell him. See? No repression. Perfectly self-aware. Thank you very much.” 

“You’re impossible,” Yaku growls at him. “You’re going to end up old and alone.”

“No, I won’t,” Kuroo insists. “Remember that promise we made back in med school? That if we’re both still single when we’re forty-five…”

“…we’ll kill each other,” Yaku finishes the thought for him. “And as much as the thought of murdering you brings me great joy, Kuroo, I don’t know that I can do that to Kenma.” 

“Are you giving me your blessing?” Kuroo asks, blinking several times in quick succession.

Yaku huffs at him. “I’ve been telling you to tell him for years, idiot. And I’ll never understand why you haven’t done it, yet.” 

At this point, Kuroo has to look down and away from the burning look in Yaku’s brown eyes. This is, after all, something he’s thought about constantly. He’s dreamed about it, imagined it all in great detail. There are scenarios involving white horses, and scattering cherry blossoms, and soft violin music playing in the background. But none of them have come to fruition. 

“There’s always a reason not to, I guess,” Kuroo says at length. “When I was graduating high school, I already knew that I’d be going to Kyoto for university. I didn’t want to start something only to be pulled away from him for years. And then when I got back, we moved in together, and I was so happy to be close to him again I didn’t want to fuck that up. And then I was studying so hard all the time, it didn’t seem fair to ask him to put up with being in a relationship with both me and my doctorate—”

“Literally none of those are good reasons,” Yaku hisses, “and not once have you told me you’re scared that Kenma doesn’t feel the same way. So, you have no good reason not to tell him!” 

Kuroo shrugs, then lets his face fall forward against the lunch table. “Of course, I’m scared of that,” he says, voice now muffled. “It’s like I’m holding the most precious thing in the world in my hands, but if I grip too tightly it’ll burst. It’s an egg. My happiness is an uncooked egg that I’m holding, and I can’t let it crack.” 

Kuroo can’t see Yaku, anymore, but he knows that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Your bullshit metaphors don’t work for this,” he tells Kuroo. “You spend all your time with Kenma when you aren’t working. If he didn’t want you around, if he didn’t want to be close to you, he would’ve told you to get lost. You know it.”

“I know,” Kuroo whines at the table. “But that doesn’t mean you have to make me confront all this, Yakkun.”

Yaku kicks him. “If I have to know every miserable detail of your life, I’m allowed to commentate. And maybe one day, you’ll even listen to me.” 

Kuroo lets that sentiment wash over him for a moment, grateful in ways he can’t explain for Yaku’s friendship. It helps, having someone who can kick your ass when you need it. And Yaku’s never shied away from that role. 

“Um— is he okay?” A voice asks from somewhere above Kuroo’s head.

“He’s fine,” Yaku says. “Just an overdramatic baby.” 

Sighing heavily, Kuroo lifts himself up and sees a person smiling down at him through pursed lips, like he’s holding back a laugh. Kuroo can appreciate that— as an expert at mocking others, he knows full well when he’s worthy of mockery. 

“You’re the new GP, aren’t you?” Kuroo asks. “Suga-someting?” 

The new doctor nods. He has pale hair and wears a neatly-pressed sky blue shirt, his laminated ID pinned to his shirt pocket. “I’m Sugawara Koushi,” he says, pulling up a chair to join them. “But you can call me Suga.” 

—

Kuroo sees patients for most of the day, then spends an hour or so in his office reviewing prescription orders and paperwork. Finally, when he’s sure there’s nothing left that requires his attention, he grabs his things and makes his way home from the hospital. 

It’s only a short walk to his and Kenma’s apartment— when they’d moved into a bigger place a year or so ago, Kenma had insisted he didn’t mind being the one to commute. Kuroo, remembering their schooldays riding the train in from the suburbs, had bemoaned the fact that they wouldn’t be riding to work each morning together. Kenma had rolled his eyes, but he’d also given Kuroo a crooked half-smile and said, “We’re still coming home together every day.” Kuroo had liked that sentiment so much it had shut him up entirely.

Today, when he gets back to the apartment, the greasy and delicious smell of takeout greets him. Dropping his things by the door and stepping out of his shoes, he heads towards the kitchen.

“I could’ve cooked,” he says, seeing Kenma dishing out noodles onto plates for them.

Kenma doesn’t bother looking up. “We’re out of everything. You can go grocery shopping and then cook tomorrow.”

“I _can_ ,” Kuroo says. “What a privilege.” 

Kenma sucks in a breath, puffing out his cheeks. His own cooking skills have never progressed too far beyond the essentials—rice, basic proteins, omelets. Kuroo, on the other hand, has acquired a shelf full of cookbooks and experiments whenever he has the chance. Kenma patiently eats whatever Kuroo ends up making for them. It’s a good kind of symbiosis, especially when some days they cave and just eat greasy noodles.

Over dinner, Kuroo looks up and says, “Oh, yeah. I meant to ask you— there’s a person at your work who does design stuff, right?”

Kenma gives Kuroo an odd look. “We’re a video game company. Everyone does _design stuff_.”

“No, like graphic design, like posters and shit,” Kuroo says, to wrapped up in the idea he’s had to take Kenma’s bait. 

Kenma huffs a little sigh. “Yachi,” he says finally. “She’s good. She freelances, sometimes.”

“Can you get me her card,” Kuroo says, chewing between words. “Shimizu in oncology and I have been working on a campaign for grief counseling, but we’re both shit with computers and presentation is half of it, with these things.”

“You should have Shimizu contact her, instead,” Kenma tells him.

“Why? You don’t want me to meet her?” Kuroo asks. 

“You’d scare her,” Kenma says simply. 

Kuroo gasps, affecting a wounded expression. “No, I wouldn’t,” he insists. “Besides, she works with _Tendou_. If he doesn’t scare her, why would I?”

“He does scare her,” Kenma says. “Or at least, he used to. She’s just generally a nervous person. And you look like an anime villain.” 

“I’m kind and trustworthy and good at getting people to open up to me!” Kuroo insists.

“Sure,” Kenma agrees easily. “But you don’t look like that.”

“I think you insult me more than is fair,” Kuroo says, rising to take their dirty dishes to the sink.

“Is it an insult if I’m just saying something that’s true?”

The thing of it is, Kuroo knows Kenma. He’s never had a problem expressing his negative opinions— he hated physical activities in school, and everyone knew it. When he doesn’t like someone, he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. And when something has truly hurt or angered him, it’s easy to tell. But on the other hand, Kenma tends to skirt around things he truly wants or enjoys. Compliments from him are rare and tangled things, but Kuroo can usually find the end of them and figure out what Kenma means. He has a feeling that Kenma had said something nice about him, just now, but he hadn’t been properly focused on it. 

They end up on the couch after dinner, flipping past the news and letting the TV settle on some drama that they half-follow. Kuroo, exhausted from a day of work, stretches out and drapes his legs over Kenma’s lap. Kenma shifts until he’s comfortable, but doesn’t push Kuroo away. 

It’s normal, familiar, comfortable. It’s good, and it’s home. 

Still, as the TV drones on in the background and they sit in companionable silence, Kuroo wonders how this life might shift. If there exists, in his future, a time when he can come home and kiss Kenma hello. A time where they’ll end up on the couch and it’ll be Kenma who presses closer, in a different kind of contact. A time when they’ll be each other’s plus-ones to work events not because they’re convenient company, but because they officially and unambiguously belong to one another. 

They’re all nice thoughts. Kuroo looks over at Kenma and wills him to look back, wills him to give Kuroo some kind of sign. If he looks at Kuroo in just the right way, or if he leans closer, or if he says something—

An hour passes, then two. Kenma stretches on the couch, gently nudging Kuroo’s feet to the floor.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “We’re doing a play through of the game, tomorrow. Don’t wait up.” 

Play through days are important for Kenma, but also less stressful than they are for some of his coworkers. By the time a game is ready to be played through entirely, the character designs are mostly set. So Kenma gets to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labor without stressing too much about last-minute fixes.

“Okay,” Kuroo says. “I’ll leave some food for you in the fridge, yeah?”

“Mm. Thanks.”

As Kenma passes him on the way to his bedroom, he lets his hand rest against Kuroo’s hair for a moment, gently brushing through the dark locks.

Don’t push too hard, Kuroo thinks to himself. Don’t crack the egg.

He doesn’t reach out for Kenma in return. 

—

He can’t imagine what his job would be if he wasn’t a psychiatrist. He’s spent most of his life training for this job, studying and practicing and dedicating himself to it. He’s always wanted to help people, has always felt frustrated when there are problems he can’t understand. So, it had been a natural fit, a choice he’s never regretted.

But some days, every so often, he wonders why he does this to himself. 

It rains on the way home, and Kuroo doesn’t even bother to check whether he has an umbrella. Instead, he lets the rain soak through him, plastering his hair to his face and sticking his shirt to his back. 

It doesn’t take him very long to get home, but by the time he arrives he feels as though the water dripping off his body is taking every remnant of his energy with it. He fumbles unlocking the door to their apartment, then slouches in and lets the door swing closed behind him. His vision is blurry. 

He stands in the entryway for long moments, letting the rain drip off of him and onto the tile. He barely registers when Kenma comes to stand beside him, looking at him questioningly.

“What happened?” Kenma asks. 

Kuroo shakes his head. 

Kenma grabs the briefcase from Kuroo’s clenched hand and sets it aside. He takes Kuroo by the hand, leading him quietly back to Kenma’s bedroom. Kuroo can’t fight him, can’t protest. His head is numb, and he doesn’t feel any great connection to his body. He wants to sleep, maybe, but he doesn’t want to dream.

Kenma pushes him to stand at the center of his rug as he pulls the jacket from Kuroo’s shoulders and sets it aside. When he starts unbuttoning Kuroo’s shirt, his fingers are warm against Kuroo’s clammy skin. Kuroo starts to shiver, but Kenma doesn’t relent until Kuroo’s stripped down to his boxers. Kenma reaches into his own dresser and pulls out one of Kuroo’s shirts, loose and well-worn. He pushes Kuroo down by the shoulders until he’s kneeling enough for Kenma to wrestle the t-shirt over his head. 

“Come on,” Kenma says softly, directing Kuroo to his own bed. 

It’s only once Kuroo is laying down, curled up with his hands clenched in his hair, that the gravity of the situation hits him. There’s so much emotion welling up in him at this moment, and he doesn’t have any productive way of releasing it. 

Kenma is sitting up in bed beside him, hands pressed against Kuroo’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says, when Kuroo starts to shake. 

But Kuroo protests that, violently. “It not,” he says simply. “I couldn’t do anything.” 

He doesn’t have enough control to keep from being selfish, right now. He leans against Kenma, pressing his face against Kenma’s chest and taking deep, rattling breaths. Kenma loops his arms around Kuroo and doesn’t protest. 

“I want to save everyone,” Kuroo tells Kenma, his voice muffled against Kenma’s shirt.

“You can’t,” Kenma says. 

“But I _want to_ ,” Kuroo insists, voice breaking on a sob.

Kenma clenches his hands against Kuroo’s back. “I know.” 

He can’t save everyone, and he knows it. Most days, he’s good at managing these feelings, at taking comfort in the fact that he does what he can for everyone who comes to him, and many of those people he does help, and even saves in some small way. But he isn’t perfect, or invincible. And there are many things he cannot fix, even with all the tools available to him. There’s always going to be someone that he cannot save. 

“I know,” Kenma says again. “It’s something I love about you.”

Kuroo lets himself be selfish. He lets Kenma hold him until he falls asleep. He’s the one person that Kuroo can trust with his own feelings, with everything that seems like too much for Kuroo to handle on his own.

—

Life rolls on, as life tends to do. Kuroo attends a funeral. Kenma works longer hours at work as his deadlines loom. Kuroo goes to work, eats lunch with Yaku and Sugawara, and works on his project with Shimizu. Days pass like rain falling against a sidewalk, each drop eventually culminating in soaked concrete.

One morning, Kuroo sits in the living room with a cup of coffee as Kenma reties his own tie for the fifth time in the same hour.

“It looks fine,” Kuroo tells him.

“No, it doesn’t.” Kenma pulls at the ends of his tie again. It’s salmon-colored, bright but not flashy against his white shirt. Kuroo rarely sees Kenma this dressed-up. It’s a good look for him.

“It’s just an interview,” Kuroo says. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Kenma snaps at him. 

Kuroo lifts the hand not clutching his coffee in a placating gesture. “Of course, you aren’t.” Then, he adds helpfully, “I could come with you.”

Kenma frowns at him. “You’d make fun of me if I let you come.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Kuroo says. “And besides, I really want to see you smile for a camera!”

“I don’t smile for just anyone,” Kenma says. As if to prove that point, his frown grows more exaggerated. 

“You smile for me, sometimes,” Kuroo tells him. He sets aside his coffee and stands to help Kenma with his tie, knotting it expertly. 

“Because you’re impossible, and I’m humoring you,” Kenma says. Still, the corners of his mouth quirk upwards, and when Kuroo is done he doesn’t fidget with the tie any longer.

Every degree of Kenma’s smiles are a precious thing to Kuroo, begrudgingly given or naturally offered. And when Kenma leaves for his interview fighting back a smile, Kuroo takes pride in that.

—

He loses track of the days, after that. Kenma pulls a series of all-nighters at work, leaving Kuroo unsettled and lonely.

“Oh, my god, Kuroo, stop pacing.” 

Sugawara finds Kuroo in the break room, unable to sit still. It’s been a few months since he started working at the hospital, and in that time Kuroo’s come to consider him a friend. That doesn’t mean, however, that Kuroo is going to stop pacing.

“Fine,” Suga says, sitting down on a free armchair. “Do you at least want to tell me _why_ you’re pacing?”

“Kenma’s finishing work on a new game, today. The first one he was head character designer on. It’s basically all his concept, from what I know.”

“Kenma,” Suga says. “That’s your roommate, right? Your sexy roommate?”

Kuroo knows that Yaku and Suga have been talking behind his back. They’re both overactive meddlers, and it only stands to reason that Suga knows about as much as Yaku thinks Kuroo would be comfortable with him knowing. 

“What the hell is a sexy roommate,” Kuroo asks.

“A roommate you have sex with, obviously,” Suga says blithely. “Or, you know, a boyfriend, or a significant other. You can call it what you want. Sex probably isn’t even required.” 

Kuroo fights back a laugh. “Yeah, no. That’s not how we are.”

“He’s not your sexy roommate, and he’s just finishing up a big project, and for some reason you’re pacing,” Suga says, rattling these facts off. 

Kuroo stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, finally coming to a standstill. “Every time either of us reaches, like, a milestone, I think about telling him. When I graduated from high school, when he first got hired by Nekoma, when I got my doctor—”

“Kenma works for _Nekoma Games_?” Suga asks, suddenly jumping up.

“Um, yeah? Oh, are you a gamer? He can probably get you a free copy of—”

“No, Kuroo, oh my god,” Suga is gesturing at him excitedly. “This is amazing, you _have_ to tell him!” 

Kuroo blinks at him. “You’re not making much sense, right now.” 

“Daichi— my boyfriend— is really into video games,” Suga says in a rush. “He and our friends Noya and Tanaka are always playing some new game or the other. But they’ve been talking about this one game for a while, now, and it’s made by Nekoma Games, and— anyway, it’s probably best if someone else tells you the rest of this. But please, please tell Kenma how you feel about him.” 

Kuroo eyes Suga suspiciously. “Why do you care so much?”

“I’m invested in your happiness!” Suga chirps. When Kuroo doesn’t look convinced, he adds, “Plus, then we could double date. I think you and Daichi would get along really well, and I’d love to meet Kenma.” 

“I think I have to single date Kenma before we can double date with anyone.” 

“Well?” Suga asks, pushing Kuroo towards the door. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up, and then the four of us can get brunch.”

—

“Oh, Kuroo. You made it.” Shimizu is standing at the door to the ballroom, wearing a sleek dress of a shimmery, silver-blue material. Her dark hair is pulled into an elegant knot at the side of her head, and her shade of lipstick is definitely bolder than what she usually wears to work. She looks happy, expectant. 

“Well, of course,” Kuroo says. This time, he’s managed to make into a formal suit, complete with bowtie. He extends an arm to Shimizu. “Can I escort you until we find your date?” 

She inclines her head and takes his arm, and the two of them walk into Nekoma Gaming’s release party together. This time, the dress code is decidedly formal. Kuroo and Shimizu blend in well enough, even though they can’t mingle with a knowledge of the guests the same way an industry insider would be able to. It’s okay, however— both of them are scanning the crowd for heads of blond hair, and aren’t much interested in mingling anyway. 

“So, how’re things going with Yachi?” Kuroo asks, laughing lightly when Shimizu blushes. 

“We’re taking a vacation after everything for the game dies down,” Shimizu says. “Bangkok, for two weeks.”

“That sounds nice,” Kuroo says. “Do I get a special shout-out at the wedding for introducing you, or…?”

Shimizu arches her eyebrows at him. “You gave me a business card, Kuroo. Did you think you were playing matchmaker?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Nah. That seems more Sugawara’s speed, anyway.” 

Shimizu rolls her eyes. “I went to medical school with Sugawara. He is a _terrible_ matchmaker.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kuroo says, trying not to let the thought heighten his nerves. Not that Suga is actually matchmaking him, but. It’d be nice to know he has good instincts, at least.

“Well,” Shimizu says, thoughtfully. “I don’t think he and Sawamura have realized, yet, that our friend Azumane actually set them up. They take credit for Azumane’s relationship and don’t realize he’s responsible for theirs.” 

Kuroo barks out a laugh. “But Suga seems so all-knowing.” 

Shimizu shrugs. “He can be a little oblivious, about some things.” 

Kuroo cranes his neck, looking through the crowd but unable to find Kenma. He’s on time, but most people have already taken their seats. As he and Shimizu walk through the room, the lights begin to dim. 

“If everyone could please find a seat,” a man at the podium says. He has curling dark hair and a kind smile, though Kuroo can see the strain of nerves in the set of his jaw. “My name is Moniwa Kaname, a producer for Nekoma Games. And to begin tonight’s events, I’d like to present the final trailer for _The Legend of Kurogane_.” 

Kuroo wrinkles his brow at the name even as Shimizu nudges him towards an empty chair. In the next moment, the lights in the hall go out completely, and the massive screen in front of them flashes to life. 

The trailer is a perfectly-directed blend of images— sweeping views of beautifully-rendered scenery, flashes of characters’ faces and action poses, narration that starts out gentle and then grows more ominous. It tells the tale of a war-torn land, beset by magic and chaos. And, apparently, there’s only one hero who can rise above this and save the world.

The hero appears, at first, like a dark shadow falling over the path of a grotesque-looking monster. Then there’s the sound of a blade being drawn, and the flash of steel against steel. Then a figure comes into view— tall and imposing, with a lanky build and a crooked smile that cuts across his face. Messy, dark hair falls over his eyes as he holds a long sword aloft. 

In one scene, he cuts down a monster like its nothing. In the next, he’s laughing in a crowd of people, head thrown back. Then, he’s creeping towards the enemy with a strategic gleam in his golden eyes. Then he’s reaching towards a blurry figure, crying out for them to come back to him. 

“ _I will save everyone_ ,” the character declares, his voice echoing over the background music.

_The Legend of Kurogane_ , the title screen reads. The outline of a sword and a cat frame the elegantly-rendered text. 

The screen goes dark, and as the room lights up again the audience bursts into applause. Kuroo, however, is frozen, gazing up at the screen as though the trailer will come back on and explain itself to him. 

“Kuroo?” Shimizu asks from beside him, “Kozume designed those characters, didn’t he?” 

Before he can answer, he recognizes Shibayama coming up to greet him. “Kurogane-san,” he says, then blushes a furious scarlet. “I mean, Kuroo-san! Or is it Kuroo-sensei?” 

“Kuroo is fine,” Kuroo says, a bit dazed. “Actually— what did you just call me?”

Shibayama lets out a squeak. “Um, please forget about that. It’s just a nickname we have for you around the office!” 

“Shibayama,” a voice says from behind them. “Stop talking.”

Kuroo turns, and there’s Kenma— dressed in dark slacks and a burgundy shirt, his hair half-pinned back from his face. He expression is unreadable, but Kuroo knows he isn’t imagining the blush on Kenma’s cheeks. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo says, “Your game…” 

Kenma shrugs. “You work on a game like this for years. You have to really love the characters to stick by them for that long.” 

“You’ve been working on this game for five years,” Kuroo says, accusatorially. “You never told me that— that’s— he’s the _title character_ —” 

Kenma’s amber eyes flicker towards the ground, and he purses his lips for a moment. He mumbles something under his breath, and Kuroo strains to hear him. 

“What?” Kuroo asks.

Kenma looks up at him, cheeks red with embarrassment. “I said, I was waiting for the right moment to tell you.” 

Kuroo is holding something fragile and precious in his hands, and if he squeezes too tightly it will shatter in his grip. But all this time, he hadn’t fully realized that there’s a second pair of hands holding up the seed of his happiness, tempering his strength and keeping it safe. 

“Oh,” Kuroo says. “By the way, Kenma. I love you.” 

Kenma blinks several times in quick succession. “Good,” he says finally. “Otherwise this would be really embarrassing.” 

Then, he’s stepping towards Kuroo and grabbing the collar of his shirt. He yanks Kuroo down to his level, and presses a quick kiss against Kuroo’s lips. The impression of the kiss burns into him like a revelation. 

Kuroo can’t leave it there. Just as Kenma shifts away from him, Kuroo brings his hands up to cup Kenma’s face. Pulling him closer, he brings his lips to Kenma’s for the second time, allowing himself to linger. Kenma’s hands are at his waist, and Kenma’s hair is brushing against his cheek. 

“I love you, too,” Kenma whispers in his ear. 

—

Kuroo spends the rest of the night with Kenma, being introduced and reintroduced to a series of coworkers whose knowing looks now make sense. 

“Sugawara’s a sneaky one,” Kuroo says to Kenma, at one point. “He’d probably seen a trailer for the game, and he didn’t even tell me.”

“I’m not sending him a free copy,” Kenma says blandly. “We need the sales.” 

Kuroo laughs. “So, what about the other characters, then? Who’re they?”

“Not everyone’s based off of a real person,” Kenma says, defensive. “That would have been weird.” 

“Tell me,” Kuroo says, grinning at him. 

Kenma rolls his eyes. “There’s a knight character— he’s short, but a tank, and has amazing defense stats. And a dark-haired enchantress. She’s a scholar, and provides a lot of background information for the team.” 

“And?” Kuroo prompts, thinking through all the figures he’d seen flash across the screen. 

Kenma’s blushing, again. “A mage. He’s, um. He and Kurogane grew up together. And part of the quest is finding the mage when he goes missing, and keeping him safe until he can perform the spell that defeats the main villain.”

“Kenma!” Kuroo says, aghast.

Kenma looks at him with wide eyes, almost panicked. “What?”

“You just gave away the ending,” Kuroo whines. 

Kenma deflates like a balloon, expression going from worried to exasperated. “You’re impossible,” he says. And then, with a shrug, “If the sales are good, there’ll be a sequel.” 

— 

_The Legend of Kurogane, Behind the Scenes Staff Interviews  
Kozume Kenma, Character Designer_

Q: What do you hope that people will feel when they play this game?

A: My hope is that you will find a friend in playing this game. Games have always been a big part of my life, and I consider the characters to be people I’m lucky to have met. So, when you play this game, I hope there are characters you can connect to in that way. I hope they get reactions out of you— whether anger, frustration, joy, or understanding. I hope you find something here that you can love.

**Author's Note:**

> "basically i watched a bunch of zelda behind the scenes videos and was emotional about them," a third memoir by ao3 user newamsterdam.
> 
> title from the ronettes' "[be my baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2g_FD_sYazk)."
> 
> comments are always appreciated, and you can come talk to me on [tumblr](http://newamsterdame.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/newamsterdame).


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